Project Moirae: A Chance Encounter
by Gramm485
Summary: Two unrelated people, one very inconvenient spot, and one very convenient proposal. This is the story of how Ada Wong and Albert Wesker walked into each others' lives.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is a little excerpt from the Project Moirae role play. Ever wonder how Ada and Wesker met? This is just one of infinite possibilities, set during the events of the mansion outbreak. To get the full story, visit our board, the link is in my profile.**

**Roles:**

**Albert Wesker: Chaed**

**Ada Wong: Gramm485**

**William Birkin: MA-121**

**Barry Burton: Scholar JVG**

**Rebecca Chambers: Kitsune Blade**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"This sucks," Ada said to herself, paging through a few files.

There had to be some information in the stack she'd found, anything to point her in the direction of her objective. But no, the blood spattered files only contained biologic garbage: reports that made no sense, charts with chemicals she didn't care about. There wasn't so much as a hint as to where the storage compartments were.

The computer next to the files didn't have anything on it either. Ada was amazed to find one that actually worked properly, let alone still hooked to the network. The better part of an hour was all for nothing, however, as she couldn't access the main data storage. Apparently, the AI had an attitude problem. What was it nicknamed? The Red Queen?

"Bitch..." Ada muttered when the network booted her for the fifth time.

Undeniably frustrated, she slammed the files back on the desk, then settled for tapping the muzzle of her Browning on the dark stocking over her thigh. Her mission was so simple, so laughably easy, but that was before she had known of the damn outbreak!

She had originally intended to sneak into the mansion, looking for her missing "boyfriend" John Howe, one of the researchers, then get caught on purpose. Of course, they weren't really dating, but after the one night stand they'd had, he thought otherwise. It was the perfect ruse to get into an Umbrella laboratory and snatch a sample of the T-Virus. The organization had been simply begging for it.

Unfortunately, the last three weeks of planning went down the tube when she found herself in the middle of the infected staff. Hell, she wasn't even armed! She just happened to come across a gun in a desk drawer. Even by conserving her ammo, she was running dangerously low, already down to her last clip. She'd been hearing sporadic gunfire for a while. At first, she thought of searching out the source, survivors obviously, but then decided against it. She needed to be in and out as quickly as possible.

The only problem was the out part. She couldn't get what she needed. She sighed, then decided to change plans. If one of the survivors had access to the labs, or even knew where she could get a sample of the virus, she could get out faster than she would by her current method.

Straightening herself from leaning over the desk, she smoothed the front of her dress, a black cocktail number that stopped at the middle of her thighs. Not the most fitting outfit for survival, but she'd make do. At least she could move in heels.

She was just about to round a corner when she heard the noise: footsteps. Usually, they were the slow, mindless shuffling of the infected staff, but every so often, they were smooth, accompanied by the click of talons. Ada knew enough about Umbrella's research to know what they belonged to.

These were different. They were steady, but sounded heavy, like the tread of a boot. Every other step was deeper and uneven, as if weight was being shifted. Quietly, she backed away from the corner, tucking herself behind some pipes, then leveled her gun. It sounded like she was about to introduce herself.

She almost let out a breath of surprise when the man walked into view. She expected a scientist, maybe even one of the security personnel. Ada didn't expect to see an official STARS logo and emblem on the vest of the man. Had news of the outbreak already reached the police or military? Impossible, not in such a short frame of time, especially since this was a secret facility. Then what was STARS doing here?

The blond man limped partway into the room. One of his legs was tattered and bloody. From her vantage point, Ada couldn't tell what had caused the damaged. Something with claws or teeth, no doubt. He might even be infected. He paused, giving her a chance to drink him in. Oddly enough, he was wearing sunglasses.

The way he swept the room clear with his gun suggested something peculiar to Ada. He wasn't shocked to see all the equipment, let alone the Tyrant in storage. It was as if he was already familiar with the place, and was just giving it a quick look-see. He hadn't been here when she here earlier, so it wasn't like he was checking his tracks. There wasn't even a hesitation in his awkward gait; the man knew where he was going.

Umbrella had it's fingers everywhere, especially in Raccoon City's offices. The organization didn't have names, but they had enough evidence to assume it. This man was most likely one of their lackeys. And what would someone like him be doing here? No doubt trying to erase evidence.

Ada smiled to herself. This guy probably knew exactly where she could find a sample of the virus. She even had the drop on him. Things were starting to look up.

But how should she play her cards? She could "accidentally" reveal herself, cowering like a frightened woman, then talk her way into it. But if this guy was from Umbrella, he probably would have no qualms with putting a bullet in her head. She was a witness after all. No, she had to take a firm hold on the situation and take the information by force. She had more than enough experience to deal with a single wounded man.

She stepped out from behind the row of pipes, leveling her gun on his back.

"Don't move..."

* * *

He proceeded past the pipes, grateful that the console was still functioning - or at least not noticeably damaged. He hadn't chosen the third sublevel computer because of the nice scenery down here; rather, because only a handful of people had access to this floor. The chance of infection was low here, and so was destruction.

He was about to take the last step towards the computer when a cool, female voice advised him to do otherwise. He reacted before his brain could even process the information. Spinning around - much to the disfavor of his leg - Wesker's gun was pointed at the woman, finger on the trigger.

At first, he didn't know where to place her, his mind sorting through the faces of employees working at the Arklay labs. None matched the Asian woman in her black cocktail dress standing in front of him.

"Who are you?" he asked sharply, furrowing a brow behind the sunglasses.

She was definitely no civilian, he could tell by the way she was pointing the gun at him. What then? She didn't seem bothered by the Tyrant standing tall behind him. That left two options and Wesker didn't like either of them. Umbrella had many rivals that only waited to get their hands on confidential information, but was it even possible for them to learn of the outbreak and send an agent so soon? The incident had even caught him off guard, and Wesker had been in contact with HQ not even twenty four hours ago.

Option number two - she was working for Umbrella. One of Vladimir's companions?

"You didn't listen," she said, smirking confidently despite his weapon. "And doesn't Umbrella teach any manners nowadays? It's rude to ask a woman for her name without introducing yourself first."

The corner of his mouth dropped at the woman's sly remark, not favouring it in the least. Who did she think she was to address him in such a cocky way? Didn't she know that it could get her killed, right then and there?

There was only one thing keeping Wesker from pulling the trigger and that was additional injuries. He couldn't tell how good she was, whether he would be able to take her down in one go. The leg was bad enough.

"I don't have time for formalities, Lady," he said, stressing the last word. "State your business or leave. Refuse these options and I'll have no other choice..." To clarify he lifted the gun to the level of her head.

Whoever she was, she didn't work for Umbrella. But she knew of them and their true nature. The company itself didn't worry Wesker so much. For all he cared she could pack up the Tyrant and present it to her higher-ups with a red ribbon around its neck.

As soon as he got out of here he would be an enemy to Umbrella just like the Asian woman. That was, _if_ she got out.

"You want to know my business?" the woman asked lightly. "I know a few people who would just _love_ to see Umbrella's research." Her voice dropped to a more serious tone. "But no doubt you already know that. So let me ask you something. Is there a reason you haven't killed me yet?"

Almost absently, she paced a few steps across the floor, her gun never leaving its target. "The way I see it, we could both use each other's help. How far do you think you can make it on that leg? And if you've made it this long, I'd hate to see how much ammo you have left."

He followed her with his gun as she started to walk across the floor. So one of Umbrella's rivals had indeed learned of the outbreak.

And sent her? A woman in a black cocktail and high heels? That doesn't make sense.

He frowned at her offer, not liking the way she approached things. Training a gun on him while suggesting cooperation, no thanks, Wesker could do without the extra bullet in his back. He still had half a clip of ammo apart the magazine he was using right now, and the woman didn't look as if she'd carry an armory under that dress.

"I appreciate your concern about my situation, lady, but I don't see what profit I'd draw from this. Samples are all over the estate, you'll have no troubles seeking them out. They'd quite... love to scratch your back, if you let them, I'm sure." He raised an eyebrow. "What would you need my help for anyway? As you've wisely noticed I'm not in the best condition and certainly not in the mood to go hunting for 'research'."

"The door is behind you. Take the elevator up the way you came." He smirked. "Don't let your samples wait too long."

* * *

Ada's smile wavered at his remark. Who did he think he was talking to her in such a condescending tone? She now almost wondered if she should have just up and shot him when she had the chance; he was quickly becoming a nuisance. Too late for that now.

"Profit you ask? Just how much is Umbrella paying you? I hope it's enough to cover the medical bill. Besides, what's preventing them from simply taking you out afterwards? After all this, you're just one more witness...like me."

Her eyes suddenly fluttered down his form, as if she was casually checking him out. "But I wonder, why go through all the trouble just to end up dead? You seem like you've got plenty of information. I'm sure my employers would much rather have a talk with you then some disgusting blood sample. But since you're not interested..."

She slowly backed away, heading in the direction of the door. If he was going to shoot, the highest probability would be now. The black mirror of his sunglasses began to make her nervous. She couldn't read him. Just another few feet to the door-

"Wesker?"

-when a male voice jerked her attention away for a critical moment.

Ada could hardly believe her ears, _and_ eyes when she saw the man put away his gun.

"Hide!" he hissed, then stepped away from her. It was almost as if they were a pair of teenagers about to get caught by his parents for fooling around. At first it sounded to good to be true, but if he was willing to leave himself wide open after the authority he commanded, she'd take the chance. It could only mean one thing: he was interested. So, as he requested, she hid, behind a cabinet near the wall.

What had the second man called the blond STARS officer? Wesker? Just from what she'd seen, he sounded like a very interesting man...

Wesker spoke to the newcomer. "You were successful?"

"The timer is set. We have...49 minutes before this place blows to ashes. Have you activated the lift?"

Wesker's voice again. "49 minutes is more than enough. I was just about to activate the elevator when you came.

She heard the second man's voice.

"...Is there anyone else in...Never mind. Let's just get out of here."

Her grip tightened on her gun, but the man seemed to let it go. She let out a tiny breath of relief.

"There is still something we need to check before leaving," Wesker said. "I noticed some of the structures- metal pipes, doors, stairs- have been heavily damaged by the specimen. I can activate the elevator from here, but I don't have access to the cameras. We have to make sure the elevator isn't broken. We have a time limit now, and we can't afford to waste it. You should go ahead and see whether the lift is still intact. If it's not, I can open and close other paths that lead to the heliport from here. It would be too much of a risk to go there and find the only escape route blocked. We would have to backtrack, and that takes time we don't have."

There was a pause, then he continued. "If the elevator is still working I will initiate the lockdown of the lower levels after my department. It will hinder the virus to leak to the city and...keep other things secret from eyes that aren't supposed to see them, if you understand what I mean." Ada heard the slightest sound of something transferring hands. From what he said next, she guessed it was a radio. "It's a safe frequency. I'll take one of the spare ones from here. Contact me when you reach the elevator. Now go. There's no time to waste."

She didn't want to miss a single detail of their conversation. From what the second voice said, it sounded like the facility's failsafe had been activated. A setback, but she would have plenty of time to regroup if the shit hit the fan.

After the elevator door clanked shut and the winch began to whir, Ada poked her head cautiously from her hiding spot. Wesker's friend had left. They were alone again, and hopefully he was ready to stop being so stubborn. She still held her Browning, finger on the trigger, against her leg. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she didn't want to get too relaxed around him. He had just held a gun to her only seconds before, after all.

"Less than 49 minutes?" she asked lazily, leaning on the cabinet she'd ducked behind. "And I thought we weren't going to have a lot of time. At any rate, judging by the fact that you didn't blow my head off means that you're willing to talk?"

Whoever he just spoke with was obviously working with him, someone from Umbrella. They seemed to know the layout of the facility well. What struck her as interesting was the fact that he didn't want to be seen with her. He had his own agenda outside of Umbrella, she was sure of it. Now she just had to see if it worked with hers.

* * *

As soon as he heard the mechanical departure of the elevator, Wesker limped towards the door himself, stopping infront of a box hung on the wall. The word 'EMERGENCY' was printed on it in big bold letters. Wesker opened it, finding it stocked with a first-aid kit and two small radios.

He took one of them, before the woman started to talk again. "I am indeed willing to talk," he said, while focusing on circumventing Umbrella's parasitic frequency to get Birkin on the line.

"And I will repeat my questions - who are you and who do you work for?"

He brought the radio to his mouth and pressed a button. "Can you hear me? Over." Birkin had complied with his orders surprisingly easy, making Wesker wonder. He shook his head. It was probably only the situation getting to him, making him worry too much. Birkin was stressed and wanted to get out of here alive just as him, that was all.

Birkin's voice crackled over the radio. "_Loud and clear. I'll call you when I reach the elevator. Birkin out._"

Dismissing the thought, he moved back to the monitors, glancing at the woman in passing. Her weapon was still drawn, though she wasn't pointing it at him anymore. It was an improvement. He didn't bother to unholster the Beretta. She hadn't shot him yet, and he doubted that she would in the near future. They both had a time limit now, and currently she was the one needing his help, if she didn't intend to return to her employers with empty hands.

He sat himself in the chair in front of the computer, clenching his teeth against a groan as the weight was lifted from the leg. The dull throbbing he had gotten used to was replaced by a piercing pain again, forcing Wesker to look down. Up to the knee the fabric was soaked a dark crimson, making it hard to distinguish between bandage and pants. He gently brushed a hand across it. It came back sticky with blood, letting Wesker grimace slightly.

Still fresh, he thought, wiping it off on his combat pants. Not that it was surprising. It was astonishing that he was still in his right mind and able to stand straight. The initial damage had been bad enough and Wesker figured that the additional work he'd forced upon it hadn't exactly improved the situation.

Wesker sighed, turning his attention to the computer. It would soon be over.

"Ada," the Asian woman introduced herself. "Ada Wong."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Wong," he said lazily, loading the computer's mainframe.

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't disclose the name of my employers this early in the game. I can't tell you much, other than what I said before. I can, however, say that we aren't some small time company with a chip our shoulders."

She didn't give away much, but he hadn't expected otherwise. Whoever the company she worked for was; they had the means to find out about the outbreak in time and send one of their agents. If he hadn't accidently come to the labs she would have remained unnoticed completely. No doubt - it had to be one of the big fish.

"I don't suppose you could let me in on what you know about Umbrella, Mr. Wesker, was it?"

He smirked when she asked the inevitable question, briefly stopping in his typing to look at her. "You'll have to forgive me," he said, using her words on purpose, "but forty minutes will hardly be enough to start a decent conversation. And I presume that you aren't overly interested in molecular chemistry or biology at the moment. If your employers play in the right league, they will understand."

On the monitor a window popped up, requiring his log-in data. Wesker typed in his name and password and pressed enter. The screen froze for a second, before the bold letters 'Access Denied' blinked up.

_Wesker, Albert..._

He recognized the voice immediately. It was what Spencer had chosen for Umbrella's security system, the Red Queen.

_I am afraid that of 24 hundred hours, I have taken it upon my authority to revoke your access priviledges to the mainframe system_.

He couldn't help but stare at the screen for a moment, before quickly entering another command. In her mechanical accent, the Red Queen replied:

_Due to emergency conditions all data has been backed up to the U.M.F. 013, as issued by Colonel Sergei Vladimir._

Wesker was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to slam his fist into the monitor. Taking a deep breath and letting it out through gritted teeth again, he tried to calm down. There were other possibilities.

Birkin's account was still activated, at least to the extent of being able to access the SDS program. He wouldn't need a higher security level than that anyway.

Wesker pressed a key and the login window appeared again. He typed in Birkin's name, before pausing a second. The other man had never learnt of his knowledge to his access data. Perhaps, Wesker thought, he would never have to find out either. He typed in the password and hit enter.

The Red Queen's response was prompt.

_Birkin, William... Access Granted._

"Fuck you, Sergei..." Wesker murmured, but kept his voice low enough for Ada Wong not to hear.

* * *

Ada only shrugged at his response. She really didn't expect Wesker to give her anything. At the very least, it sounded like he wasn't just some foot soldier. He seemed to be more the science type.

She looked over his shoulder as he worked at the terminal. As it did with her, it prevented him access. The computer artificial intelligence mentioned the name Vladimir. It was a familiar name. She didn't know the details, but she did know that he was the UBCS commander. The organization didn't have a lot of information on him, but judging by the way he reacted, Wesker did.

He tried once again to enter information into the computer. This time, he met with success. Ada recognized the name the computer confirmed, her heart beating faster in excitement. William Birkin, Umbrella's top scientist. He knew him close enough to know his access codes?

The organization had their eyes on him for years. He was one of the most tantalizing targets. His abilities as a researcher were unmatched. If the organization could get their hands on him, they'd never need to bother going after another sample again. He lead the T-Virus project and, according to some recent information, was working on a new project. The only thing preventing them from capturing him was his status. The organization didn't want the full force of Umbrella to come down on them.

Come to think of it...Wesker's friend had just signed off on the radio. It was a little garbled, and she really wasn't listening closely, but hadn't she heard him say...Birkin? Why, oh why hadn't she bumped into him first? She was sure that she'd have no problem putting the moves on him. At least more than Wesker; it was like trying to talk to a wall.

But this late in the game, she would take what she could get. If she was careful, the organization might be able to get to Birkin through Wesker. She'd have to play nice though, and keep him interested in her offer.

She leaned down, looking closer over his shoulder.

"So, we can save business for later then," she purred next to his ear. "Do you mind at least telling me what you're doing?"

She felt him bristle as her breath gleaned the back of his neck, then grinned to herself.

"I'm preparing my escape route," he replied. "As should you, if you don't want to get caught by the self-destruct system my friend activated. There is nothing left for you to do here, if you don't intend to chase down the creatures for their blood samples."

Ada gave a small chuckle, thinking of the all terrain vehicle parked a quarter mile away in a small clearing from the mansion. She saw the confirmation message on the computer screen; he was going to try for the roof.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she said. "I've already got a plan. I'm more concerned about you. Do you think you'll be able to make it alone on that leg?"

Her voice was toned with genuine concern. She didn't want him to end up running into a loose B.O.W. Now that the self destruct was active, she wouldn't have enough time to grab a sample and get out before the facility blew. She was putting all her chips on him. Plus, there was the possibility that he was just playing her so he could ditch her. She needed some way of keeping track of him so she could contact him when they got out.

She nodded towards the last radio. "How about letting me stay in touch, in case something comes up?"

Unfortunately, if he decided to try and make a run for it, there was nothing she could do. She would fail her mission, something that irked her greatly, especially given the opportunity that the evening had given her. But he wasn't stupid. He recognized the status of the organization. That should be enough to bring him back.

"_Uhm...Wesker?_" his friends voice said over the radio. "_Birkin here. I've reached the elevator. The path is clear and everything is working. Over._"

Wesker brought the radio to his mouth. "I'm on my way," he said, then to her, "There's not really a choice, is there?" He flexed the leg, and Ada saw a slight jolt run through him. It was definitely hurting him. "The only line that works here is a special Umbrella frequency. I'd rather avoid them overhearing any discussions, if you understand."

Ada nodded. "I understand completely. I can't say that I'd want Umbrella to overhearing me either. Do you have any other suggestions?" She smirked slyly. "Or do you want my number?"

Wesker's brow furrowed again. Ada could only imagine how bad his leg hurt. She was lucky, being able to get access to the labs right away and not a scratch on her. It sounded like most of the carriers and creatures were lurking around the mansion. But he seemed fairly set on going it alone.

She straightened from her perch over his shoulder, habitually tugging on the hem of her dress. Like he'd said, there was nothing else to do for her. All that was left to do was to escape alive. Once they were both out, she could contact him, then get to business. If things kept going the way they were, she didn't foresee any problems.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He was about to respond to Ada's question when the ceiling above them trembled slightly, some pieces of dust getting loose.

Immediately, Wesker went for the radio. "What happened?"

Whatever had just occurred some levels further up, it matched with Birkin's location. Or STARS'. The sound could have been a well placed grenade, or an explosion of other sorts. Wesker turned back to the computer, quickly entering commands.

Instead of the desired camera angles he asked for, the Red Queen answered very politely: _'I am afraid that you do not have the necessary security level for accessing video data, Dr. Birkin.'_

"_MARCUS!_" yelled Birkin's voice over the radio. "_IN THE LABS!_"

The words crackled over the radio were enough to make Wesker get to his feet. He leaned hard on the healthy side, and gritted his teeth against the pain that came in quick, pulsating shots.

Shit. Marcus. He had hoped to have lost the leech construct on the way, had hoped that the devastating stench of the altar room would distract it from the blood trail they - or rather he - left.

It seemed that Marcus had caught up and whatever was happening up there -- it couldn't be in Birkin's favor.

"Loose him!" he bellowed into the radio. "Don't let yourself get cornered, try to outrun it!"

Ada almost forgotten, Wesker moved towards one corner of the room, opening a metal locker. Apart from a small box inside, it was empty. Wesker took the box and proceeded to enter the multi-digit code into the small keyboard.

After an affirmative beep, the box opened. It contained six bullets, a syringe and vial filled with a clear liquid. Wesker took the bullets, discarding the rest. This was one of the emergency boxes that could be found in any of the bigger labs. Everyone contained strong sedatives - for recapture of the subject - and ammunition - if recapture was no option.

In this case, it wasn't. He would wait for Birkin's response another few seconds, but if he didn't receive one Wesker wasn't going to play the hero. He'd try to get to the heliport before Marcus lost interest in Birkin's dead body.

"I fear I'll have to go, Miss Wong, before my escape route turns into my death" he told Ada. "I'm sure you'll find a way to contact me if you're still interested in the deal."

She paused, then simply nodded. "Alright."

He was about step through the door leading to the elevator corridor, when a clicking sound made him freeze right then and there.

Click click

clickclickclick

The moment he realized what made its way down the elevator shaft, the automatic door in front of him fell shut. Wesker stumbled back into the lab. Over the loudspeaker, the Red Queen informed them of her actions.

_'To avoid immediate BOW contact, I have taken the liberty to commence with security lockdown until the threat is neutralized.'_

"Move," the Asian woman said briskly, then pushed past him. She busied herself with the panel next to the door.

Wesker stepped to the side, deciding not to comment on Ada's actions. Then...

"Dammit!"

The agent's sudden curse only verified his theory. If the Red Queen said they were to stay inside, she meant it.

She looked at him sourly. "Well, I'm out of ideas. What about you?"

"There is not much we can do," he said eventually, moving back to sit on the chair. There was no use in straining the leg even further. "I do not have the necessary privileges to change the Lady's mind on this account and apart from the door there is no other way out of here."

Which was true. Neither of them was small enough to squeeze through the ventilation shaft located beside the door. The Chimera might be able to, but he'd rather not have it in the room. For all he knew, the Red Queen could decide to use Anti BOW gas against them. The direct effects didn't harm humans, but the lack of oxygen certainly would.

"I suggest you sit down," he said, turning back to the computer. "All locks are automatically released ten minutes before the explosion. If the BOW doesn't leave on its own until then, we'll have to run."

Wesker logged on with Birkin's data again and tried to open the security program. The answer was foreseeable:

_'Access Denied. You do not have the necessary security level for this action, Dr. Birkin.'_

* * *

Ada shook her hand. The feeling had returned, but her left index finger still throbbed from the jolt. She was disliking the computer more and more with every passing minute. She supposed Wesker was right. Ten minutes was close, but she was in excellent shape; running wouldn't be a problem, at least for her.

She decided to take Wesker's advice. She joined him at the computer, sitting on the edge of the counter, crossing one long leg over the other. True to his word, he was unable to get into the network, even with using Birkin's info. It looked like they were going to stay for the wait.

"So..." she began slowly, "when do you think the outbreak occurred? I'm no scientist, but from what I've seen from the state of the carriers, I'd have to say about a few days."

She turned to Wesker. "When did Umbrella get the news?"

He sighed, almost tiredly. "You tell me, Miss Wong. When did your company send _you_?" He glanced at her. Ada could tell he was scrutinizing her beneath those glasses. "This hardly looks like heavy mission wear to me..."

Ada smirked, adjusting her bangs with a flick of her head, then daintily extended one leg in front of her. He looked exhausted, so teasing him seemed to be the appropriate thing to do. At the same time, she didn't want to overdo it. He was in rough shape.

"You like? To be honest, if I was expecting something like this, I would have packed a little more firepower. This was supposed to be an infiltration. I don't think security would have suspected a reckless woman searching for her boyfriend. Get in, grab a sample, then get out."

She sighed. "This caught me completely off guard. If we'd known there was an outbreak, we probably would have scrapped the mission."

That was only half true. She had been unaware of the situation at the mansion, but even if the outbreak was devastating, the organization would have sent an agent anyway. This was too good a chance to pass. An isolated location, a single agent, and no witnesses. No one would even know of their presence there. Dangerous, yes, but the pay was great.

A thought struck her suddenly. Speaking of attire...

"You're wearing a uniform. Where's the rest of the STARS, and how many of them are Umbrella?"

"Nobody in STARS works for Umbrella," he said. "Some of them might still be in the Mansion, but whether they live or not, I have no way of knowing." He paused for a minute, then asked, "How do you plan on leaving the estate, Miss Wong?"

"I've got a four-wheeler stashed a ways south," she told him. "I figured it was the easiest way to sneak in close."

So the rest of the STARS was clean. How he managed to steal away from them was anyone's guess. Had he simply let them be killed by the carriers or a stray B.O.W? Or had he been discovered and fled? Whatever it was was unimportant. Ada doubted that they had the knowledge experience to make it this far.

She frowned suddenly. She could hear it in his voice; pain and fatigue. Just the way he was sitting was giving it away. Wesker seemed on the verge of collapse, probably due to blood loss. As much as she wasn't concerned about his personal well being, she was concerned about her information collapsing on her. She couldn't carry him through the labs filled with carriers as well as the forest before the place blew.

And if he collapsed, who was she suppose to talk to until the door opened? The sleeping Tyrant?

"Hey," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was damp with sweat. "You gonna be okay?"

He needed serious medical attention. He'd put on a brave face before, but whatever he was running on was giving out. They really didn't have anything with them in the room, other than the first aid kit and the vials from the security box.

"I'll be alright," he said. "Don't worry, I'll live. It's just momentary tiredness."

Ada withdrew her hand, wiping the dampness on the hem of her dress. Whatever was outside sounded like it really wanted to get into the room. The sudden bang made her cock her head in the direction of the door, her grip tightening on the handle of her gun. It sounded strong, but unless it could cut through metal, she doubted it was going to succeed.

She stared hard at the shutter, wondering what type of B.O.W was out there. As soon as she did, she mentally kicked herself. Wesker probably did, why not just ask him? The organization knew of a handful, but all they had was data. What they really wanted was a live specimen. With a sample of the virus and the information they had, it might be possible to grow them themselves. All the more reason to keep Wesker alert.

"I don't suppose you know exactly what's out there?" she asked him. "One of the 121's?"

* * *

The Chimera banged against the door, now in rhythm of his headache. Bang, throb, bang, throb. Sooner or later it would stop and search for another way, but until then they were forced to listen to the noise. For a moment he wished that the door would give in, just so that they had silence again.

"It's not a Hunter," he told Ada when she asked, wondering how much the organization she was working for knew about Umbrella's creations. "They prefer open spaces and probably made for the surface. This is one of the Chimeras. It must have followed the bloodtrail leading down. It'll want to eliminate the intruders to its territory."

In agreement, the Chimera slapped against the door again. As with its former attempts, it remained unsuccessful.

Wesker took the radio. "Can you hear me? Over."

If Birkin didn't respond this time, he was most likely dead. In that case he would reconsider his means of escape. Getting to the heliport alone now that his blood had attracted most of the BOWs would be hard enough without injury, not to mention getting the chopper up into the air.

Though with the helicopter he could head away from Raccoon, and momentarily away from Spencer, at least until the leg healed somewhat. The only other way to get out of the Mansion before it blew was with the Asian agent beside him, and Wesker wasn't so sure whether he wanted to be so dependant on her and her organization just yet.

He risked a glance at his watch. There were still thirty-something minutes to decide.

Apart from static there was no answer on the radio, so Wesker put it on the console in front of him. He wondered whether one of the specimen had gotten Birkin, or perhaps even Marcus himself, finally executing his revenge.

"Who's Marcus? Ada asked. "Birkin said his name earlier."

As if on cue, she asked about the late doctor and Wesker grimaced. She was beginning to stick her nose into matters that didn't concern her. He didn't like it.

"Marcus is something personal, Miss Wong," he said, making sure to add a definite tone to it. "His presence does not concern you or your organization and I suggest you leave it that way." She didn't have to know more than was necessary and Marcus' file was one of these matters.

She was pelting him with questions already. By now she should have a guess of his value and everything above that was not meant for her ears, but for those of her superiors. And that only in appropriate bits and pieces of course.

He decided to change the topic. "Is this the appropriate time to tell me who you are working for, Miss Wong? I like to know who I am dealing with, if you understand what I mean."

"Who I'm working for?" she asked back mildly. "I work for a little company called HCF. They dabble in all kinds of things: pharmaceutics, technology, you get the picture." She uncrossed then recrossed her legs. "But, like I told you before, they have a great interest in viral research and weapon development. A lot like Umbrella, I'm sure you noticed." She leaned closer, no doubt thinking she was intoxicating to him. "But unlike Umbrella, those with knowledge have power. How many scientists hold the authoritative positions in Umbrella's web? Can Spencer do even a third of the things an entry level researcher can do?"

"HCF, hm?" he repeated. That made some things clear. To his knowledge Timothy Skern had wanted to leave Umbrella and in the short briefing he received there were talks about the company. Timothy Skern had - unwillingly - committed suicide a day prior to this mission. It was one of those night shifts Spencer had Wesker do from time to time. Recently, more than ever.

Skern had been a high level scientist. No wonder HCF had sent an agent to the Mansion after learning of the doctor's fate. Umbrella liked to share its employees as much as their data. He would have to lay low after this, too. Spencer couldn't afford such a big leak, and Wesker could tell many tales. Some good, but more not in the favor of the company.

He raised an eyebrow at Ada's next comment. "I am certain that Mr. Spencer is capable of a lot of things, Miss Wong. I wouldn't underestimate him if I were you. It wouldn't do you any good." After all, he'd experienced it himself over the years.

Wesker grimaced slightly. A cramp was sneaking its way into his leg. The pain was still bearable, but he knew that once the muscles stiffened completely he'd crawl up the walls in agony, much like the Chimera on the other side. If it didn't get better - which you know it won't - he could still dose the morphine down and inject it directly into the limb to relax the muscle.

He still had roughly half an hour to get into shape for the final run.

* * *

Ada couldn't help but grin at his words. She wasn't scared of a paranoid old man, even if he was Umbrella's chairman. And she certainly never underestimated anyone in her life. The organization thoroughly acknowledged Umbrella's status, taking every precaution when they pawed around not to poke the beast in the eye. If anything, Spencer underestimated the extent of how much other companies knew of Umbrella's work.

"I think you read a little too much into that, Wesker," she said to him. "What I'm saying is that HCF would much rather have a scientist than a businessman pulling the strings. Although the business types do have their advantages," she added.

On the other side of the shutter, the Chimera halted its assault. Ada exhaled in relief as the banging subsided, only to sigh in exasperation as it resumed. At least her conversation with Wesker was a little interesting. They were both curious about the other, but at the same time didn't want to pry too much into each other just yet.

"Is there anything else I could tell you about my humble employers? Within reason, of course."

"Everything within reason, of course," Wesker replied. "You said that HCF specializes in viral research. I take it that the foundations - or at least parts of it- build upon Umbrella's achievements." He smiled a little. "Of course they do... you wouldn't be here otherwise. What Umbrella projects do you know of?"

Ada nodded. "Yeah. Most of their research is based off of Umbrella experiments. At least, it probably is. I don't know the extent of what is original and what was replicated, but I really don't care. You can ask them that yourself if you do."

"As far as other projects," she continued, "We've had our eye on the MA-121 series for quite some time, though one of our main targets is the Tyrant series."

She looked over to the Tyrant in stasis. Ada had been ecstatic when she found one in storage. That quickly disappeared when she was unable to access the files in the computer pertaining to it. The organization wanted test data in the worst way. As one of of Umbrella's top projects, it was hard to come by information about it. All they knew was of its existence and some statistics.

Though she didn't tell him, the organization was even more interested in the new project they'd heard about. Rumor was that it was a new virus. For Umbrella to invest so heavily in its secrecy when they had the T-virus must mean that it was something. She could name a few other things she knew about, but Wesker no doubt knew by now that HCF was very involved.

"But even knowledge is useless unless we can create B.O.W's for ourselves," she said, still staring at the Tyrant, impressed by what the virus and surgery had created. "To be openly honest, we don't have the T-virus. That's why I was here. What we do know is that it was synthesized from another virus, however."

She looked back into Wesker's shades. "Maybe that's something you could help us with."

"Maybe I can..." he said.

Wesker got up suddenly, almost startling her. Now, even more than ever, he looked ready to keel. Ada watched him very carefully as he crossed the room then begin to paw through various things. The limp from his leg was even more noticeable than ever.

"...Yeah. I think I can help you with the virus. Once we're out of here."

At this point, she herself was no longer interested in conversation. She wished that there was something she could do to better the situation. After almost sliding off the counter to join him, she decided to stay put. If he really needed her help, he would ask her for it, and she wasn't about to hover around him. She didn't owe him anything, and it would probably be best if he just vented for now.

"Alright," she said off handed, "that's something to look forward to then. "

Outside, the metal shutter banged the loudest yet. Ada thought she heard an angry insect-like buzz through the air vent.

* * *

He couldn't believe that Umbrella's top lab didn't house a simple pain reliever, or at least something against the headache. He had found several BOW medications, but Wesker wasn't nearly as far as trying those on himself. One wrong dose and he'd drop dead like the Chimera outside once the doors unlocked.

He came across old reports and Tyrant statistics too, but they were just as useless to him now as the key the human genome. All he wanted was something against the awful cramp that was eating its way through his muscles. He contemplated massaging the leg, but quickly decided against it. He didn't know the extent of the damage and certainly didn't want to increase it.

Still twenty minutes. He could turn the remaining lab upside down in that time, and if the locks released before then, all the better. Ada said something, but he didn't listen. He was busy reading the ingredients of another vial. Useless, again. Wesker placed it back on the shelf, accidentally brushing another one. The Chimera's shrieks were momentarily overpowered by the shattering of glass.

He looked down, blinking, wondering if that had been the right one. It would be ironic. Wesker turned back to his search. He didn't like irony. He wiped away the sweat that had formed on his forehead. Goddamn heat. The light inside every drawer clicked on when he opened it but the air condition was off. Easy, he told himself. No need to lose your nerves about it.

He glanced at the watch. Time had taken on a snail's speed. He moved over to the next cabinet. One by one Wesker inspected the bottles. None dropped this time, but he didn't find what he was looking for either.

Wesker turned around when he heard clicking on the floor, briefly thinking that the Chimera had entered through the ventilation shaft. Ada's high heels clicked like the BOW's claws as she paced the room. Watching her another moment, he turned around again and continued.

Minutes later Ada finished whatever she was doing. He could tell by the sound of her heels on the floor. She really did sound like the Chimera outside. It was a little amusing, but for the most part alarming. He couldn't permit himself such irrelevant thoughts. But then again, he couldn't permit himself a lot of things and they were definitely happening - even without his consent.

Wesker leant against the cabinet heavily, turning his head towards Ada. She was sat in front of the terminal now. He didn't know what she was doing, but he knew that she would fail at most everything she tried. The Red Queen couldn't be circumvented.

When she joined him, his theory was confirmed; she was as unsuccessful in changing the Red Queen's opinion as him. At least he thought so from the lack of opening doors or other escape ways. He watched her continue with her own search of the lab, until she turned to look at him.

"Find anything useful?" she asked.

"No," he said flatly. "At least not for me." There might be things that interested her, or rather the scientists of her company, but then again the entire lab would interest them and there was no way to take that along.

He stood propped against the cabinet, thankful to have found a position where the cramp wasn't as bad. And he figured it had to end at some time, anyway, be that sooner or later. There really was nothing he could do at this point, as much as he wanted to. He couldn't find any antibiotics or pain relievers and using the bandages from the first aid kit now would only increase the pain. He had to wait until the cramp was over, then he could bind up the leg for better stability during the run. The bandage would at least soak some of the blood, so he didn't leave an outright trail for all the BOW of the facility to pursue them.

"Any findings yourself?"

* * *

She contemplated telling him about the flash drive she tucked into her dress, then decided against it. Let him believe that he was still her only source of data. It might come in handy to have a little leverage, even if the device was blank. He didn't know that, but neither did she. For all she knew, the device held each and every one of the secrets she'd long searched for.

"No, nothing," she replied to his question. "Unless I feel like taking a few books with me, which I wasn't planning on. Besides, if this stuff is just laying around here, chances are we have information like it anyway. It's the high clearance stuff we're missing."

She leaned against the same cabinet as him. "Stuff like our Red friend is blocking." She sighed. "And now, it's all going to go up in flames."

"It's not going to be lost," he said, "It's not even here anymore. The Red Queen serves only as decoy now, there is nothing to gain from these terminals. All data has been backed up to the UMF-013." He gave a brief smirk. "Don't worry; Umbrella takes enough precautions to avoid giving away their data so easily."

"It seems," she began, "that Umbrella is built on nothing but precautions. I think it's precautions that have us currently stuck here."

He stiffened again, Ada noticed, as she drew closer. Maybe it was his leg, then again, maybe it wasn't. The man was certainly cautious. Just as he'd described Umbrella. She wondered if it was because of the company, or if it was just his nature. In her opinion, the cautious ones were the smartest, and from what little he told her, he was far past smart.

"Such precautions are necessary to avoid calamities," he said. "The system lacks in finesse, but with a company as big as Umbrella you can't take any risks."

"Hmm...yet they're careless enough to just get rid of you. I saw that you're clearance was revoked. Any particular reason why?"

He was smart. Maybe too smart. But he would play nice as long as she had what he wanted, and right now, that was a way out. If Umbrella had revoked his security clearance, chances are they didn't trust him anymore. He'd want a place to stay out of their clutches. What better than HCF? And he had all bargaining chips.

"There can be many reasons," he said with a shrug.

Once again, Wesker broke away from her, then limped back to the terminal. He began to examine his leg. Ada moved to watch him. Something nasty had taken a piece out of it. She wasn't sure what it was; she spied deep cuts consistent with a bite, but if he was bitten by something, he'd start to feel the effects of the virus.

He was still struggling with each move, pain lancing across what features she could see. More than once she saw his mouth thin, and his face was drenched in sweat.

"Here," she offered, clicking over to him and squatting down. "Let me help you."

She forced her hands in between his, then wrapped the bandage around his leg a few more times before tying it carefully but securely.

"Thank you," he said, surprisingly.

"Quite a wound," she said mildly, "One of the 121's? Or was it something new?"

"Nothing of that kind. It was an unfortunate accident at an unfortunate time, but it will heal, once time is given."

Ada gave a soft smirk. "Just another accident to add to the growing list, I guess."

She straightened from her crouch at his side, then resumed her perch on the counter next to him, once again crossing her legs. It was good that he was letting her in his circle. He was either beginning to trust her, or he was too weak to do anything about it. She hated to admit it, but it was probably the latter.

"...and if it's time you want, my organization can supply plenty of that."

With that, they were back to square one. They were still trapped, and they were still prattling on with useless small talk, either one unwilling to reveal too much. Ada was going to suggest that they stop-

-when the lights in the lab flickered once. Ada perked her head up. The Chimera had stopped banging long ago, but it was still doing something outside. She heard a long set of scrapes, like claws on metal, and the lights flickered again. Then they went out entirely. For a moment, the auxiliary lights on the room's equipment glowed, casting an eerie glow over in the darkness. Then those went out as well.

Ada sighed in irritation, sitting in total blackness. It was bad enough being trapped, but now they couldn't see anything. Her sigh cut short as she heard a hiss of hydraulics and a rattle of metal. It sounded like the shutter had released.

Then she heard the clicking of talons in the direction of the door, and though it was far from funny, Ada thought it sounded just like her high heels.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He tensed as the lights flickered for the first time, wondering whether the Red Queen was responsible for it. When they flickered a second time Wesker cocked his head, uneasy. His hand was on the hilt of the pistol when the auxiliary lights replaced the flicker and a clicking echoed through the room. He didn't have to guess what it was.

The Chimera.

Neither of them moved as the room fell into darkness. And into silence. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up and the last drops of adrenaline coursing through his body.

Behind him there was a sound of metal clashing, like something had fallen to the ground. Something like a shutter. The shutter to the ventilation shafts. Which were big enough to fit Chimeras. He could tell. It happened once before.

Wesker was facing the console, still sitting in the chair. Turning around now would mean his certain death. Talons clicked their way to where he thought was the door. He couldn't see Ada on the counter, but she hadn't moved either.

The Chimera clicked, sniffed, hissed.

Wesker frowned. Oh, it was a real invitation they were giving it. He glanced at the ground, where he knew he'd thrown down the old bandages. In a minute, two at most, they'd be dead.

He briefly wondered whether Ada had her weapon at the ready, then decided that there was no time for that. If he didn't act now, the Chimera would slice their throats without further notice.

These BOWs relied mostly on sound. Their vision and sense of smell were only marginally developed - marginally that was, for a biological weapon. Still better than any human's senses, of course.

Click, click. Closer to them.

Wesker moved. He took his sunglasses and whirled them across the room. They hit something - clank - perhaps a computer screen.

The Chimera screeched in rage. It took the bait, heading for the sound. Now, they needed to shoot it.

The distraction was working, the Chimera on its way to the sunglasses. Beside him Ada got off the counter and in the short illumination of her first shot, Wesker saw both her position and that of the Chimera.

He jumped to his feet, unholstering the gun in the movement. Unlike Ada, his bullets would affect the Chimera more. If he hit it in a good spot, it might even die.

Wesker kept the gun trained on where the BOW should be, but didn't fire. He counted four bullets leaving Ada's pistol, and judging by the Chimera's agonized cry, at least one had hit.

But then silence crept into the room again. No hissing, no clicking. He briefly contemplated whether it was dead, but it shouldn't have gone down so easily.

It hadn't. To their left the Chimera suddenly screamed again and it sounded like a battle cry. It was quickly followed by a rapid series of clicks. Wesker turned instinctively and pulled the trigger. In the short flash of light he couldn't see any trace of the BOW.

Then it clicked again. From above.

He leapt back instinctively, swallowing the pain as he hit his bad leg against the chair behind him. The Chimera's claws came down where he had stood a moment ago. It would have been a lethal blow, that much he was sure of.

He briefly lost track of Ada in the darkness, but the absence of screams and the sudden light flashes confirmed that she was still alive -- and that she had hit the Chimera once more.

He fired into the direction of the screeches, twice, and the second shot forced another cry out of the creature. It can't be long now, he thought. The BOW round should finish it...

More clicks sounded in the darkness. It seemed as if the Chimera was everywhere at once. Then there was a long moan and the sound of a body collapsing to the floor. The toxin got it. Wesker stood where he was for another minute, pointing the gun at the blackness around him.

It was dead. It had to be.

"Are you alright?"

* * *

Ada rolled over to her stomach. Wesker had shot twice, and judging by the noise she heard, hit it. The sound of it's claws moved around. There was a pause, then she heard a death rattle. It sounded dead. It either bled out, or he was packing a different type of ammo.

_Glad it didn't fall on me..._

It went back to being quiet, until Wesker broke the silence.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Ada couldn't help but grin as she got to her feet. It seemed he did care after all. The grin turned to a wince. Now that the situation had calmed, her body was beginning to acknowledge the pain. She could envision the wound based on how it felt: a thin, clean slice, running diagonally from the top of her shoulder to her arm, about four inches long.

She gingerly felt the area of pain, and the tips of her fingers came back sticky. The warmth had spread in lines to her elbow. She was bleeding pretty good, but it wasn't life threatening.

"I'm fine," she replied. "Just got nicked." She cocked her head, despite the fact that he couldn't see her. "Didn't know you cared...What about you?"

It sounded like Wesker was digging through a drawer. There was a seconds pause, then the beam of a flashlight illuminated part of the room. She could just barely make out Wesker in the light. Since the beam was facing her, all she could make out was his silhouette.

"Did it bite you?" he asked cautiously. "Did you get into contact with slime, any of its blood?"

"No, it didn't bite me," Ada said crossly. "It just tried to cop a feel."

She noted the press of his questions, not to mention that he completely ignored hers, and the subtle way he had tried to back away. He was worried that she was infected. The thought was nauseating, almost terrifying. She held herself calm, though. If she was infected, there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. There was no point in wasting energy in worry.

"Don't worry," she said tightly. "I know the symptoms. If I feel them coming on, I'll be more than happy to do it myself."

As if to emphasize the point, she ejected the magazine of her gun, taking a look at the remaining rounds. The Browning held 15 rounds. She used five, no...six rounds. Nine shots left; eight if she set aside one for herself.

"Just don't give me an excuse to kiss you before that..."

She slapped the clip back into the gun. Ada was doubtful of her infection. The Chimera just barely grazed her. The T-virus transferred through bodily fluids. She could get away with just a few scratches.

"Do you have any of those bandages left?"

"I used the ones from the first aid kit," came his voice from the darkness. "There might be more in one of the cabinets."

Ada felt her way to the cabinets, hoping she wouldn't trip on the corpse of the Chimera. Groping around with the tiny amount of light that was trailing from Wesker's flashlight, she didn't feel anything that resembled a roll of bandages, nor any medical supplies. Forget blind pawing.

She reached down and took hold of the hem of her dress. After a brief tug, she was rewarded with the sound of tearing fabric. She pulled a lopsided strand of black fabric, about one inch thick free. Clumsily wrapping it around the gashes in her upper arm, she knotted it the best she could, pulling it taught with her teeth.

The makeshift bandage didn't reach the cuts on top of her shoulder, but she would make do until she got some real treatment. As far as the dress went, black wasn't her best color; Ada was a woman made for red. Besides, the lopsided tear could probably be considered a new fashion statement.

She rejoined Wesker at the console. He was busy examining the various readouts.

"Please tell me that she'll open the door now," she asked, referring to the Red Queen.

"She will open the doors, but not only for us," he informed her. "If I don't activate the program again, we won't get far. It will wake and it will be hungry. That we're both bleeding won't help very much either. It won't take long."

Ada didn't mind waiting. The organization wanted Tyrant combat data, but she wasn't about to witness it first hand. She'd much rather be a safe distance away, watching through a high powered scope. Even from what little they knew, an angry, hungry Tyrant was not something to be taken lightly.

"Do what you have to," she told him. "I'd rather not have it chasing after us..."

She trailed off, noticing in the dim light that his sunglasses were off. He wasn't moving that much in the scrabble with the Chimera. Was the noise she'd heard that distracted it his shades? A clever move, especially off of the top of his head in less than a second. It was still too dark to make out his face, but that was of little concern. They had bigger problems on their hands, and she could wait to catch a glimpse of his full face.

* * *

As soon as the loading was done, Wesker entered a row of commands. The first one was to log in with his - or rather Birkin's - data. A small smile appeared on the corner of his lips at the next command. He hit 'Enter' and the room lit up in a dim green light.

Somewhere to his left, the Chimera corpse glowed scarily in the light. A pool of dark blood had formed around its body. He briefly turned his head to Ada, taking in the makeshift bandage she had put around her upper arm. There were splotches of blood on and around it, but it didn't seem to be very deep. Not that he could tell with just a quick glance.

The computer in front of him beeped. It was ready to take more commands. Reinstating Tyrant sedatives would be one of them.

He heard Ada click away from her position, her high heels crossing the distance to the door. She stopped there and Wesker didn't listen any further, concentrating on entering the right commands on the keyboard. He needed to type fast; one, because they had only fifteen minutes, and two, because he didn't intend to spend those with the T-002. Doing that would prove deadly for everyone involved.

"I hate to add to our growing list of problems," the Asian spy suddenly said, "But the door won't...open."

When Ada made her announcement (with it's unusual pause), Wesker turned around immediately, hissing both in pain and anger.

"_What?_"

"I said..." she repeated testily, "...'the door won't open'. Do you think we could try to hotwire it again? Or...wait, what about the air vent? Isn't that how the Chimera got in here?"

"I don't know," Wesker said and grimaced. It was a line he hated to use, because it usually meant that he was in a lot of trouble. Hotwiring the door twice wouldn't help much, he thought. "Try the air shaft. Do we even fit through it?"

And more importantly, did they have enough time to try fitting through it? Wesker glanced up at the Tyrant's ugly face. It seemed to grin at him with its odd, lipless grin. Wesker frowned. Did his eyes just betray him? He could swear that the corner of its mouth had twitched.

Wesker wiped off the excess sweat from his forehead and turned back to the computer. Goddamn, how slow were Umbrella PCs! He typed in the next command, then waited for the confirmation again. The clock kept ticking. And Wesker didn't need a confirmation from an Umbrella console to know that this time he was in deep shit. The shit was up to his ears and if he didn't get out of it soon, he'd fucking die in it.

Suddenly, there was a pounding at the locked door, and through it came a muffled voice. "Wesker!! Captain Wesker!! Are you in there!?"

Of all the people in the world, Barry Burton was the least he had expected to find his way down to the third sublevel, banging against a hotwired door that wouldn't open and calling his name.

Wesker hit ENTER and left the computer - the system update wasn't finished yet, but if Barry managed to open the door in time, perhaps, they wouldn't even need it anymore. He limped towards the door quickly. Ada was out of immediate sight, investigating the air shaft, and with a silent glance over to her he indicated that she stay where she was.

"Barry?" he called. "The door isn't opening, the electronics are broken. Can you force it open from your side?" He risked a look over his shoulder. The Tyrant's lips didn't twitch this time, but it couldn't be long until it awoke.

"Barry, you need to hurry," he stated, taking a step back. "I have unpleasant company inside and too little ammunition to win an argument, should it arise."

Even though the Tyrant kept grinning from behind and they were still locked up in the room, Wesker felt better. The leg throbbed and he was sweating like in a desert, but he felt better. He didn't dare to say it was hope, but it was something. Something is always better than nothing, Marcus used to say.

Wesker didn't wait for Barry, instead he limped back to the Tyrant. It was too big a risk to leave unattended. It only needed one strike to down them all. He couldn't allow that.

On the other side of the door Barry tried to force the door open with whatever means he had, but Wesker didn't pay anymore attention to that. All his concentration went into entering the right commands and sporadic glances at the grinning face in the stasis tube.

Wait. He froze, and the sweat on his forehead made him shiver. The Tyrant wasn't grinning at him anymore. It was observing him.

"BARRY!"

The Tyrant looked at him from its tube and even though it just stood there, Wesker knew from the way it stared that it wanted. Perhaps it didn't want him personally - he didn't think it really cared who it got in the end - but its eyes gleamed with want, like a lunatic's eyes gleamed with madness.

Someone - Barry - pulled him away and in that moment Wesker regained his senses. He limped along Barry's side, wanting to get away from the Tyrant as fast as possible. Deep down inside he knew that it'd follow them, and that it would probably catch them. It had been designed for this, after all.

With Barry had come Rebecca and the convict - he had forgotten the name. The elevator door was already open and the two inside. Not a second too late, Wesker and Barry were too. Before the gates shut closed again, Wesker could hear the Tyrant break through the glass of its tube and it sent a shiver down his spine. He briefly thought of Ada Wong who was still hidden in the lab, and wondered if her hide-out was good enough for the Tyrant. It probably was. The Tyrant had seen him an Barry first, and it would follow them. If she was lucky, it wouldn't even notice her.

"Shoot for the heart," he said before the elevator reached its destination. "If it comes, shoot for the heart." And it would come, that much he was sure of.

The doors opened with a beep and they ran out into the corridor. The convict motioned for them to hurry, and the thought crossed Wesker's mind where the remaining STARS were. Dead? Were Barry and Rebecca the last ones alive?

He shook his head, and in that moment the ground beneath them shook. There was a deep grumble and Wesker slowed down in his pace. His bad leg suddenly gave way, perhaps its own way of saying that enough was enough. He groaned and lent more on the two supporting him.

Then the Tyrant was there. It came through the concrete floor behind them, an action that not even a BOW of its size should be capable of.

"Shoot for the heart," Wesker said again. Perhaps he was the only one aware of it, but running away wasn't an option anymore.

A handgun wouldn't do much against the Tyrant, nor would Barry's colt. The few BOW rounds in his pistol wouldn't turn the tide either.

Barry rapped out orders. "Billy! Covering fire! Rebecca, take Wesker and run!"

Barry and the convict - Billy! Yes, Billy was his name! - tried to halt the Tyrant, while Rebecca tugged at his arm to pull him forward. The bad leg said no, but it wasn't as if there was a choice right now.

"C'mon Captain, let's hurry," she said quickly.

Wesker turned ahead, leaning heavily on the rookie medic. He tried to put weight on the leg, but it refused to support him. It slipped away, like some boneless pulp of flesh. He didn't think it was broken though. Or perhaps it was. The pain was all the same.

Wesker stumbled, slowing them down once more. He gritted his teeth, but couldn't supress a moan. He glanced over his shoulder, forgetting to breath for a moment. The Tyrant ignored the two men, and they hadn't been able to deal it any visible damage. Instead, the BOW was heading for Rebecca and him.

It was driven by want, seeing only them. For Wesker and Rebecca the smell of his blood was barely noticeable, but for the Tyrant it was irresistible. It wouldn't stop in its assault, he knew it.

Then, the Tyrant tensed, bent forward and charged. Wesker pushed away Rebecca. It was more instinct than anything else, a reflex he'd acquired during the years with STARS. He had never thought that it would cost him his life eventually.

He wanted to leap to the side and evade the sharp claws drawing nearer, but the bad leg gave way beneath him and the next thing Wesker felt wasn't the pain from the weary limb, but something - a kind of pain, but he couldn't really define it - in his belly. He put his hands to the offended part, but instead of gripping his body, he held the Tyrant's muscular arm. The Tyrant's arm that went right through his body.

Wesker tried to tell it to stop, but the only thing coming out of his mouth was a wet gurgle and a handful of thick blood. The Tyrant grinned its lipless grin at him, scrutinizing him and then swung him to the side, as if he were a doll that had become boring.

He landed hard on the ground, half slumped against the wall. The only thing he could move was his hands, and he put them over the wound protectively, but they only swam in blood. Everything swam in blood.

* * *

The sound of breaking glass was deafening, almost terrifying as Ada pressed herself deeper into the shadows. The Tyrant clawed itself free of it's glass womb, spilling the stasis fluid in artificial birth. It stepped out of the capsule, thick feet thumping deeply on the metal floor. She could have touched it, it passed so close. The mood lighting was just enough to make out the lipless face and the wicked claws of the left hand. It passed without turning, then continued into the hall.

Ada broke out into a fresh sheen of sweat after the close encounter. After poking a quick look around the corner to make sure the terrible giant was out of sight, she crept into the hall. A shaking crumble sounded, reverberating through the floor. There was a hole in the ceiling, in the solid concrete and metal. The Tyrant was pulling itself up. Then she heard the gunshots.

Part of her was torn between seeing the Tyrant in action, and saving her own ass. No doubt the higher ups at HCF would much appreciate some description of it in action. But HCF could go to hell in this case. She didn't feel like getting mauled just to get a slightly bigger paycheck from a man trying to get a glimpse up or down her dress.

She settled for going both ways. The only way out was to follow the Tyrant. If she saw it take a few STARS down along the way, so much the better. But as soon as the way was open, she was gone.

The gunfire continued, which must have meant that the Tyrant wasn't going down. Ada stood beneath the hole, listening intently. The sounds escalated, then paused eerily.

Then she heard the cry of one of the STARS. It sounded like Barry, the one that was pounding on the door earlier. That could only mean one thing: the Tyrant had killed someone. She heard him yell something again, but she couldn't make it out.

A deafening explosion sounded on the level above her, followed by the twang of shrapnel. The hallway she was in buzzed softly. It sounded like someone had chucked a grenade.

It sounded like quite a party; Ada couldn't say she was sorry to miss it.

After a few long seconds, she pulled herself up through the hole. The hallway was clear. STARS and the Tyrant had continued their little skirmish elsewhere. Cautiously, Ada moved ahead, keeping her gun ahead of her. The lights were dim, whether due to the Chimera earlier or some other reason was unknown to her. She kept one eye down the sights of her gun, watching carefully for a stray carrier or-

-her foot skidded on the point of her high heel, her ankle rolling. Ada tumbled to one knee, her calf burning as her weight fell on it.

"Ow!"

The only thing bruised was her pride, but that quickly left her thoughts. A sticky liquid was seeping into the fabric of her stockings. It was warm. Then she saw the body in front of her, and realized that it was blood. A lot of it. Startled, she recognized the body:

It was Wesker.

The Tyrant had gored a hole massive straight through him. His entire midsection was dark with blood, and it was still pooling onto the floor. Habitually, Ada put a hand on the floor to lean closer, feeling it plunge into the warm, crimson murk. She pulled it back like it was hot, then hurriedly wiped it on her dress, trying not to swallow too hard. Blood was never a problem for her, but this time it was everywhere.

"Oh God..." she whispered when she leaned over him. He was still alive.

His life was faint, but she could just make out his eyes, slowly drifting. His lips were parted, a red drool flowing from the corner of his mouth, wavering in tiny, shuddering breaths. He seemed to react to her presence, but only in his eyes; probably delirious by now from pain and blood loss.

Feeling awkward, Ada placed a hand on his shoulder. So much for their deal. The mansion ended up claiming him after all. It wasn't her business or even in her best interest, but she felt like she had to do something for him. She could ease his passing with a quick bullet between the eyes, but the shot might draw the attention of the B.O.W's, the STARS, or worse, the Tyrant.

* * *

The thing is, you don't die instantly. He thought he would, because there was too much blood and not enough air to breathe, but he didn't. Shaky hands tried to cover wound, tried to keep the things inside that belonged there - but the lights didn't go out in that time.

He was vaguely aware of people screaming around him, but couldn't turn his head. He gazed at the concrete wall before him, and his eyes wouldn't see anything else. The pain, at least, wasn't so bad. He had imagined it to be worse, especially after the last snap in his bad leg - and the Tyrant wound, of course - but found that the leg didn't hurt at all. He could see it twitching slightly, but he couldn't feel it.

He started to sigh, but it ended in another vomit of blood. His mouth was full of it. His ears must be too, because the sounds around him dulled down considerably. The last thing he really, consciously heard was Barry yell, "FIRE!" then his body slumped to the side like a heavy rock as the grenade exploded. There was no one to drag him around the corner to get in cover, so Wesker got the worst of it. There was a loud ringing sound in his ears for the rest of the time and he started to cough violently because something inside of him shifted into an unnatural position. Perhaps the guts he could feel with the tip of his fingers.

Then, very slowly he started to work one hand up his vest. It slipped a few times and didn't quite follow his commands, but he had to do it before the blood in his nose got too much and hindered him in breathing.

Because it was like some last illumination, like a final understanding. He'd never believed in that crap, but it might be true after all. He didn't have much to lose, and he might as well do it before his thoughts went away completely.

A tremble overcame him, he heaved up and the hand slipped from its position.

He didn't catch the next few moments. It might have been a temporary black out, unconsciousness, he could never recall. Breathing had become his main task. He needed to oblige himself to force every movement. The blood was making it hard, and his mind often slipped away.

The next coherent thought occurred when something touched him. At first he thought it was the Tyrant, returning to finish what it had begun. The haze before his eyes lifted after he tried to blink it away - but found that coordinating any kind of movement was almost impossible - and in front of him was not the grinning Tyrant, but Ada Wong, the agent from some place he couldn't remember.

But he remembered something else. Something in his pocket that Birkin had kept talking about, something that he had tried to reach, but couldn't. He took one hand from his aching stomach and moved it to the pocket. It must be there, that something. He didn't know what it was, but it would help. It had to.

He wanted to tell her what to do, but the only thing coming from his mouth was more of the thick, red blood.

He barely caught that her lips were moving. She was speaking.

"...end it?" She held her gun up.

His eyes widened, even though he couldn't quite hear her. The ringing in his ears was louder than her voice, but the gun in her hand was enough to make him understand. He didn't want that. He didn't want to be shot, no matter how grave the wound was - and it was very deep. His one hand still put over it protectively could feel the squirmy things from inside, his organs and muscles and bones.

Wesker gulped, emptying his mouth of all the blood. It was coming back steadily and there was nothing he could do against it. But he could do something against the gun.

"No," he croaked and hoped she understood. The sound was accompanied by another torrent of blood and momentary blackness before his eyes. He blinked, then positioned his hand over the pocket again. I can do it, he told himself, I must do it. His fingers clasped around the small bottle, pulling it out with what power he had left.

He tried to say 'heart' but it came out as "haaahht" because all the blood was in the way. At least the leg doesn't hurt... It was the last thing he remembered.

* * *

"Haaahht..." he slurred with blood as he groped at a pocket on his vest. Ada spied a tiny vial in his red fingers, then he went slack. She could just barely make out the rise and fall of his chest. He was going under.

She pried the vial out of his sticky hands, giving it a shake. It was full of a thin, clear purple liquid. Did Wesker want her to inject him with it? What was it? It was doubtful that whatever it was was going to save him; it would most likely fail in this close to death. Besides, what could it do against a wound like that?

What did he try to say before he went out? It had been mostly incoherent. What if he was dead already? It didn't matter if she injected him, his blood wouldn't even be moving.

_No...He's probably just on the edge, which means I have to stick him in a major artery, or his heart..._

Finally, Wesker's slurred words made sense. He was trying to say 'heart'. Gently, Ada pushed him on to his back, then fumbled with the zipper of his vest, until she was able to spread the garment away, revealing his shirt below. A quick search inside his pockets revealed an empty syringe.

Ada stuck the needed into the vial and drew the liquid. There wasn't a dosage written on it, so she just drew an ample amount. With her left hand, she found the place where his heart would be, just to the left of his sternum. At first, there was nothing. Then she felt just the faintest, weak rhythm; he was still alive.

With a hard swallow and a deep breath, Ada raised her arm, then plunged the syringe into Wesker's chest, depressing the plunger and emptying the contents into his body. Pausing before plucking the needle out, she watched for a sign. But there was nothing.

Ada waited a minute, then two, then three, until the disembodied voice gave it's next notification. It was now or never. She sighed, then stood up, being careful not to slip and take a spill in Wesker's blood. She took off down the hall, without a second glance at his corpse.

The lift was dead ahead. Ada called it, then rode it to the surface, finding herself in the empty fountain that concealed the elevator. A quick glance showed that there were no carriers lurking around. Several spent ammo cases littered the ground. Apparently, STARS or someone else had a shoot out here, but she didn't see any bodies.

_The fountain is situated in the south of the estate..._

Ada pointed herself in the correct direction of her getaway vehicle, then hopped over the stone railing that surrounded the small courtyard. It was a short drop, and even in her heels, she stayed on her feet. She began to move through the forest, stray branches and brush picking and pulling at her dress. Soon, her leggings were covered in runs and tears. After a bit, the trees and brush thinned, allowing her to move faster.

The facility still let its countdown be known, even as she expanded the gap between her and the facility. Briefly, as she clawed through the woods in the darkness, she wondered what kind of ordinance was going to make the facility blow.

_Better not be a nuke...Wesker spoke of precautions, but that would just be stupid..._

If a nuke went off in the Arklay forest, it would affect the city. No, Umbrella probably had something a little smaller set up, something like set of charges spread throughout the facility synced to go off at the same time. As long as she kept running, she would be well out of range in a few minutes. The forest would give her some cover from any stray shrapnel or debris, should the explosion be bigger than she thought.

The forest thinned, turning into a clearing. Ada stumbled through the branches, glad that her sense of direction was still at its keenest. The ATV was parked a few meters into the clearing. She doubled over, panting. It was one thing to run a few miles in sneakers and spandex on a level surface; she could do that and not be winded. It was another to run half that in a cocktail dress, heels in soft dirt in the middle of the forest with a wounded shoulder.

Taking large gulps of cool night air, she wiped the glaze of sweat off her forehead. She had to be well outside of the blast radius. Now she could take her time; the Chimera wound had priority.

Blood was still seeping down her arm, the black cloth of her dress tear saturated with it. It might have opened up when she crawled through the Tyrant hole, or her lovely sprint through the woods. Either way, she needed a fresh dressing, which was something something she did not have.

Ada sat on the seat of the ATV, taking a few more lungfuls of air, finally catching her breath. One leg was still sopping with blood caked nylon, and both of them were almost torn to shreds. She extended one leg, then plucked at the fabric. Wesker's blood.

So much for bringing something back useful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It felt like an ice cube on his cheek at first, only that ice cubes weren't supposed to be so slimy. His eyes fluttered open. First his left, then his right. For a moment everything was grey, then colors blurred in. He didn't wait for his sight to sharpen.

Wesker screamed - it came out as a gurgle due to the blood - and pushed the weight off him with all his power. He didn't regret the pain that came in place of the creature.

_-chimera oh god chimera-_

Using the wall for support he struggled to his legs, heaving twice in the progress, staining his uniform with more red. Dizziness overcame him briefly, but it was quickly replaced by a throbbing in his stomach and leg and a loud ringing in his left ear.

Across the hallway lay the Chimera, drawing its last breath. He'd thrown it right across the corridor after waking up with its ugly mug in his face. His stomach hurt. He put a hand over the offended part. It was warm and wet and he decided not to look at it for now.

When the intercom announced that time was a luxury he didn't have anymore, Wesker started the run down the hallway. It was a mix of limping and jogging and he had to turn his head to the left ever so often because the loud ringing didn't allow him to listen.

_What the hell,_ he started to think but then decided not to continue. Whatever had happened was of no importance now. No. Get the hell out of here. That was important. Not figuring out why everything was red and the back of his uniform soaked wet, or what the Chimera did across the hall or why he could walk. That wasn't important.

Getting out, that was the only thing that mattered.

There was only one clear thought reaching through the crimson haze encircling his mind. Out. Out, out, outoutoutout. Everything was a blur of red and grey and a deafenying ringing in his ear.

The corridors were empty, apart from some items that had falled off a drawer. He tripped over them and nearly fell. But he didn't. He ran and pushed away things that were in his way, ignoring the pain and the fear, obeying only the one thought that was there.

Out, it said, so he did what it wanted.

When the intersection came, his feet didn't turn into the direction of the helipad. Instead they carried him back to the fountain lift. He pressed the button to call it and stepped in once it did. In retrospect, the entire flight was a blurred memory and he could never remember what had really happened.

The only thing that was clear in his mind was the ringing in his ears and the smell. He couldn't tell if it was coming from him, perhaps from inside him, but with every step he took towards it, it became more insufferable. And yet he didn't try to evade it. Some part of him enjoyed the intensity of the scent, but it was a part Wesker hadn't known before. It was a part that he wished he would never get to know better.

Behind him the mechanic voice grew softer and despite the urgency of the message, her tone didn't change. Wesker didn't look back. His feet had led him out into the forest. By now the pain in his stomach had intensified incredibly. It felt as if his organs knotted together, as if they would burst any moment under the pressure and spill their contents. He pressed the hand tighter against his midsection, but didn't look down. It was like looking down from a high tree. You lost your balance and fell. Wesker couldn't afford to fall now.

He was in a daze. He didn't know where he went or why he went there. Where was Birkin, anyway? At least the pain had bettered somewhat. The harsh spasms had stopped and were replaced by a kind of rhythmical throbbing that enclosed his whole body.

Like a heaat, he thought, but of course he meant heart. Like a big heaat sticking out of a chest, like a big hand sticking out of a heaat

But no, he had to concentrate. He had to get whereever his feet carried him, no matter how high the cost was. After all he had reached a point where cost didn't matter. There was only nothing and everything. He knew he wanted everything.

He told himself that he had to go on. The Mansion still loomed dangerously behind him and even though it seemed that hours had passed, he was moving at a snail's pace. He walked and walked, but didn't seem to gain distance.

At one point the better part of him begged for a pause, to sit down for just a minute and catch his breath. He knew he couldn't allow that. If he sat down now it wouldn't be for just a moment. And then, there was still that smell. That horrible, nasty smell he followed. It seemed familiar to a certain extent, and yet he had never perceived it this way. With so much want... and hunger...

The bleeding hadn't stopped yet. It worried him. But then again, the fact alone that he was walking worried him. He shouldn't be able to walk anymore. Not with that kind of wound.

Wesker hadn't dared to look down yet. He feared that the sight of it would take away these last reserves. He could feel the blood and flesh under the hand he had pressed against his stomach and that was enough.

Suddenly, he stopped. Blinking twice to assure he wasn't imagining things, Wesker found himself at the edge of a clearing - in front of him stood the Asian woman. For a moment he was dumbfounded, speechless. The ringing in his ear was overpowering. If there were other sounds in the forest he couldn't hear them. Then, Wesker's gaze fell on her gun. If she used it, he was dead.

* * *

That was it; the crackling in the woods wasn't just the wind. It was too loud and frantic to be a casual animal. She'd been hearing it for a while now, and it was getting closer.

Ada stood up from her ATV, then checked her gun. She hoped she had enough to drop whatever it was. It didn't sound like a carrier; it was moving to fast. It most definitely had to be a B.O.W.

_Damn it, why didn't I just leave when I got here?_

Now, she didn't want to turn her attention to anything else, lest she be attacked from behind. If she revved up the engine on her craft, it would no doubt attract whatever it was, and she wasn't entirely sure she could escape it at the pace she'd have to drive through the forest. Especially if it was a Hunter.

So she readied her gun, bringing it up to her shoulder in both hands. As soon as it showed itself, she was going to give it a lead shower. Hopefully, that would at best kill it, and at least cripple it so she could escape.

The rustling crept closer...closer-

-movement in the dark tree line. Something emerged from a thick cluster of foliage. Ada immediately locked onto it. It was a carrier! It-

"Wesker?" Ada gasped aloud.

She thought at first that it was the darkness of the impending dawn playing with her senses, but no. She recognized the blond hair and the STARS uniform. Wesker, alive and moving. The way he held himself indicated that he was in pain. His shoulders slouched, and his hand clutched at his gut. His clothes were bathed in blood, as was his chin and the bits of his skin that were exposed.

She found that she couldn't move, not even to lower her gun that was trained on his chest. Her face was twisted in confusion, an emotion she was not used to. There was something very, very wrong about this.

"How...?"

He didn't answer her mindless question, which was fine with her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the explanation anyway.

Her internal alarms were still going off. Every fiber of her body was on high alert; her ears strained to pick up every audible noise, but there was nothing, only silent forest. The darkness didn't seem as black as it was before. She felt the sensation of cold metal on the back of her thigh; the frame of the ATV she'd been sitting on. A small breeze fluttered across the ground, the still damp blood raising goosebumps all over her body.

The blood...it was the same blood that belonged to the man in front of her, the man who was seconds from dying when she stuck him with that syringe. The same man she'd struck a deal with. They were were far from being friends, but they were past the point of pointing guns at each other.

Still, Ada couldn't bring herself to turn the muzzle of her gun away. It was almost as if he might suddenly attack her. That was it...it was fear. There was something off about him. He still looked like the Wesker she found laying in the hall, but now he was...different. And althought she would never admit it to anyone, it struck a chord of fear in her.

_It doesn't matter! Just shoot! Shootshootshootshoot!_

But she didn't. Her finger tightened on the trigger, then stopped.

"You're...supposed to be...dead."

* * *

She was right. He should be dead by all means. Still, he managed to swallow the blood that was in his mouth and murmur:

"Don't."

To clarify he raised his free hand (the other one was still tightly pressed against his aching stomach). "No guns, okay? I'm no... no carrier."

The sheer thought of it made him shudder. He couldn't be infected. He didn't feel any signs. No itching. Just pain, and that was normal he told himself. Such injuries had to hurt. He didn't want to know what new levels of pain a bullet wound would bring.

He wondered if he should ask her to just let him go. He'd turn around and they'd both go their ways, but there was a sudden fear of being shot in the back. And how much longer could he keep on his feet without help? The big wound in his abdomen didn't bleed so hard anymore, but that didn't have to mean anything. At most, it probably meant that there was no blood that could flow anymore.

"Put it down," he said again and the words oddly slurred in his mouth, as if he'd a few drinks more than he could take.

She shook her head. "No. Not until you tell me what I injected you with."

As soon as he heard her demand, his hand dropped to his side again. That was a question he couldn't answer. He hadn't even thought about it until now. He barely remembered what had happened. There had been a needle and a short sting, but that was all. The other pain had been too overpowering.

And he couldn't just tell her the truth. That would be the same as telling her to pull the trigger. The truth was that he didn't know the answer. The substance was Birkin's and he had slipped it into one of Wesker's pockets when he had been unconscious. Along with a letter, but Wesker had forgotten its content. What he did remember was that it had made only little sense. It was still in his pocket, and he could show it to her if she insisted, but he knew that it would never come that far.

He weighed his options for a moment, before something occurred to him. That smell had returned, the one he'd been following all along. And for the first time, he could place it. It was fear. That sweaty, sticky smell combined with something else he still couldn't describe. It was driving him mad. He knew what it was, thw word rolled on the tip of his tongue.

The worst thing was; the smell was coming from her. Wesker's eyes widened slightly at the realization. How interesting, the scientist inside remarked. The rest of him just begged for rest.

But Wesker couldn't allow that, not now. He was awestruck by that smell. He had finally figured out the last component. It was the sweet odor of blood.

* * *

He didn't answer her. At all. He just stood and stared. He seemed to be analyzing something...something about her...and she didn't like it.

Her mind made a side note: it was the first time she got a good look at him without the glasses on. His eyes, though rimmed with red veins of stress, were a deep blue. She'd even go so far as to say he was a handsome man, had her thoughts not been occupied with whether or not he was a man. He looked like something out of a horror story, covered in blood, clothes tattered.

"Alright," she said tightly, readjusting her grip on the gun. "Here's what we're going to do. First, you're going-"

-what felt sudden gust of wind shocked her body, followed by a loud explosion. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she actually jumped. It took her so off guard; she'd been so focused on Wesker and the situation that she forgot all about the pending mansion explosion. The blast wave rattled every tree and bush, filling her ears with the sound of destruction.

A split second later, she registered what had happened. Her hand clenched, and the gun went off.

She was still recovering from the shot when he was suddenly in front of her. Ada wasn't sure how he moved that fast, but he did. Maybe it was a sudden rush of adrenaline that caused her to lose focus, she didn't know what. All that she was aware now was the pain in her arm.

The grip he held her in was almost crushing. It felt like both bones in her forearm were actually bending beneath his fingers. She let out a gasp, first in surprise, which registered into pain.

"Drop the gun," he said, his voice suddenly cold and commanding. "Do it."

Despite his command, she held the gun, trying to point the muzzle back in his direction. But no matter how hard she tried, he began to twist her arm. Like an idiot, she tried to resist.

"Unh!" she grunted when her shoulder protested the change in direction.

Out of options, her cool broke, and she did the next stupidest thing:

She drew back her free arm and punched.

The knuckles of her hand hurt from her own strike, her punch landing dead on his cheek. It should have been enough to at least stun him, but he barely flinched. Her arm exploded into fire as Wesker wrenched it again. Ada cried out in pain, hating the fact that she was showing weakness by doing so. She turned her head, then saw the butt of his elbow coming down. It cracked her in the head; her vision blurred, then switched off briefly. She fell to one knee on the cool earth, much to the displeasure of her shoulder, which now felt ready to pop out of the socket.

Her arm couldn't take it anymore. She knew exactly what he was trying to do, and she didn't want to let him. It would take what little hope of controlling the situation away. But in the end, she valued her body more than a piece of metal. All he had to do was twist another fraction of an inch, and no doubt she'd scream.

Her hand opened, shaking, then let the weapon fall, the trigger guard catching briefly on her finger before it spun to the ground, out of reach. Her other hand shot to her shoulder, as if she could hold the mass of flesh, muscle, and bone in place before he could rip it off. She was sure he could do it, that he was going to do it.

It was then, for the first time in a long time, with both arms either trapped or occupied, that Ada felt helpless

* * *

As soon as she let the gun fall, Wesker released her from his grip. He kicked the pistol away from her, watching it collide with a tree. After giving her a few seconds to catch her breath he said with a heavy voice:

"I have no intentions of continuing this little tirade, Miss Wong. I am weary and in pain and certainly in no mood to play games." He paused, unconsciously brushing over the wound on his stomach that was causing him so much pain. The quick movements hadn't done it any good.

"We had a deal. You remember that, don't you?"

"Yeah...the deal...I remember," she gasped, then took a deep breath. "Yeah, I remember our little deal..."

"Good," he said, and his voice was calm. He took a step back, out of her personal space and stood on his good leg.

She was shaken, he could tell by the tremble in her voice. It was normal, he guessed. He didn't feel otherwise. The only difference was that he was too tired to mind. Wesker gave her a moment to regain her cool and stand up if she wanted to. He doubted that he could pull off another stint like that anyway, not even if he wanted to. The adrenaline had gone as quick as it had come.

"Whether your company is interested in this or not is their decision. The only thing I require of you now is a ride back to civilization. Everything else can be dealt with later."

Even if HCF didn't want him, Wesker had gotten out of uglier situations - not counting the injuries, of course. This had been his first impalement trauma and he was sure that he was still standing on his feet only because the initial shock hadn't worn off yet. What he needed now was medical attention, and that preferably not from Raccoon City's doctors. They were on Umbrella's payroll, like the rest of the town and for the first time in his career, that was bad

Ada paused for a moment, then rose, her legs shaking a bit from the balance of her heels. She still gripped her arm. "You want a ride into town?" she asked. "I guess I could manage that...as long as you don't bite me on the way back." She mounted the four wheeler and keyed the ignition. The engined revved to life, then settled to a low purr.

He never replied to her comment, thinking that if it was a joke, it wasn't funny. Instead he climbed onto the ATV behind her, gripping the bars for hold that were installed in the back for the second person. If not for the injury caused by the Tyrant, he would have preferred walking, but he knew that he wouldn't come far in such a state. The dizziness was kicking in again, anyway.

Ada started the engine and very slowly the thing that once was the Spencer Mansion grew smaller behind them, drowning in an ocean of fire.

* * *

**Author's note: And thus ends the tale...or does it? Truth is, these events are still in motion right now on Project Moirae. **

**We still need members to cover the roles. Now, I know a lot of the most popular ones are taken, but our role play focuses on re-writing the events of Resident Evil. William Birkin, alive after Raccoon City? Of course. Monica being infected with the G-virus? You bet. The point is, just because the character is little known doesn't mean they can't change the outcome of the story immensely. So if you want to have some fun, take a look at the board and ask a few questions!**


End file.
